His God is achievement I explained… In-between passings of our attractive server we preamble back into the talk of men. I sit back with the Master Salvor, Master Sculptor, myself a metal worker and another comrade woodworker. I watch him- awestruck at the stories and hearing the word master so often makes you ask yourself have you accomplished anything at all. Mind you not the sort of achievement that depends on others recognition, most of the Salvors accomplishments were underwater and celebrated among a small crew of men who know how. We young men on the threshold of discovery sit at the table of ability and study. The word “Kemo” is said- like a wave it should have darkened the conversation but to him now its just another hiccup between jobs. Even a master of that… fear I think they call it. That achievement does not come from beating others, it comes from living up to your own potential. That poor New York farmer boy became the greatest Salvage Master in the world.
At a wedding party once I met a frenchman who said he was a underwater salver. Our table was full of people and when I asked this gentleman if he knew my friend, his eyes watered up and he told me stories of their friendship and travels together. The rest of the table included my eXwife and her husband, I was proud to have spent my time in the company of greatness. I learned a lot about my friend that night.

The roast beef sandwich is made with extra meat, I don’t know if she charges me extra but its worth it if she does. My Vegan comrade pulls avocado through straw and calls it healthy, id rather use my teeth to cut and tear into life. Have you ever had a woman’s hip on your mouth and it feel so good you cringe in fear you might not know when to stop biting her? You shiver and stop of course just before her yelp. Is that pepperJelly? Its delicious.
He normally has a laptop and an obscure book on the table. His food never lasts long in front of him- he blames it on the army. The lack of evidence of nourishment leaves you to wonder if his powers come from the sea. Soon he will be gone again, like a hound who picked up a scent he vanishes. Here just long enough to charm everyone he talks to, then he is gone again. In the old days I thought his woman ran him off, now I see its just the way of things. The well mannered son closes down the coffee shop. The smoked hens who keep watch on the veranda have gone home to roost.
Another day in paradise.

1 thought on “Preamble

  1. The only point in creating something is to watch it die. Like our life story, it’s a tale that must come to a climax. Many will await that end, but in reality we all know there is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story. —–The Time Keeper

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